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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480649">Skyway</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfBakedPoet/pseuds/HalfBakedPoet'>HalfBakedPoet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One Shot, Two Shot, Some Shots, Blue Box [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>@chris chibnall give us more motorbike PLEASE WE ARE BEGGING, F/F, Family, Fluff, Motorcycles, Post-Episode: s12e01-02 Spyfall, Road Trips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:20:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfBakedPoet/pseuds/HalfBakedPoet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor renews her interest in motorbikes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor &amp; Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One Shot, Two Shot, Some Shots, Blue Box [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Skyway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/phan_on_the_nx_01/gifts">phan_on_the_nx_01</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by a conversation with phan_on_the_nx_01 about what happened to 11's bike and wanting more 13 and Yaz on motorbikes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sudden roar of the motorbike woke Yaz with a start, and she hit her head against the headboard.</p><p>“I thought the walls in here were soundproof,” she groaned, scrubbing her eyes with a fist. Another revving rumble forced its way through her door, louder than the first, and she glanced at her nightstand clock, which read eleven past five. She groaned again, and the idle sputtering cut out, the engine stilled.</p><p>Her ears rang in the silence, as though the motorbike had reduced to a whisper instead, and the Doctor’s voice bled through the door. “Rise and shine, Yaz! Best to get our country ride in while it’s still cool out. You decent?” Yaz didn’t get to say anything before the Doctor kicked the door in, leading her entry with the front tire, the headlight glaring in Yaz’s face. Yaz screwed up her eyes.</p><p>“Doctor, ever heard of knocking?” she said, blocking the beam with her hand.</p><p>“Still in your pajamas? Did I wake you?” The Doctor set the kickstand, flicked the light off, and still in her helmet and goggles, dismounted. Her face was already smudged with soot, and she had opted for a shorter jacket this morning, though in similar shades to her usual coat, and Yaz thought she could still see a sliver of rainbow trim behind the zipper. She lowered her filthy goggles to blink at Yaz like a reverse color raccoon, bemused.</p><p>“Doctor,” said Yaz shortly, “It’s not even fifteen past five, what’re you on about?” She rubbed the top of her head where she’d whacked it.</p><p>“Sunrise, Yaz!” said the Doctor. She helped Yaz out of bed, pulling her to her feet before she started rummaging in the drawers for clothes. “You said we could go for a ride today, and when I asked <em>when</em>, you said ‘oh, whenever,’ so I did some thinking last night about what time would be best to go, and it hit me! Sunrise on the Dragon Tail through the Cherohala Skyway, nothing like it! Perfect place for a motorbike!” A pile of jeans, a t-shirt, and Yaz’s jacket landed on the bed, and Yaz grabbed the Doctor’s sleeve before she could reach the drawer with her underwear.</p><p>“Fine, just… give me a minute, will you?”</p><p>“I’ll be up front when you’re ready,” said the Doctor happily. She mounted the bike once more and wheeled backward into the hall, boots padding at the floor. Yaz flinched when she kicked the engine back to life and, with the screech of tires and a puff of exhaust, zoomed away.</p><p>Shaking her head, Yaz shut her door to change.</p><p> </p><p>Since the encounter with the Master and Barton, and the motorbike chase (Yaz shuddered to remember her proximity to the Master on her bike), the Doctor had rediscovered her love of motorbikes, lamenting that she had given her favorite to a friend. But then, an idea struck her, splashing across her face with a wide, open-mouthed grin, and she took Yaz’s hand to lead her to the Arch-Recon. Yaz stared up at the luminous tree, blue-lit lanterns dangling as the Doctor ducked and weaved among them.</p><p>“Not to worry,” said the Doctor idly, finding a satisfactory branch. She smiled in soft reverence at the bulb in her hands and gave it a fond stroke, her face illuminated cerulean. “We can request a replica. Not the same one I used in the Anti-Grav Olympics, but we can pretend it is. It’ll be exactly the same. Almost.” She grinned at Yaz. “You’ll love this bit.”</p><p>And like a trick of the light, a gleaming black motorbike appeared in the Arch-Recon room, chrome reflecting the blue of the tree. With a delighted shout, the Doctor left her branch swinging, to grasp the handlebars of her new bike. “Oh! It’s perfect! Looks just like the old model.” She gave a handbrake a squeeze, then slid her hand along the fuel tank, and pressed a well-hidden button before the saddle. A panel flipped into view. “And you kept the anti-grav controls just the way I left them!” She darted around to the tailpipe. “The warp drives! Turbo boosters! It’s all there! You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she said, and ran to give the trunk of the tree a hug. Yaz heard a faint burble from the TARDIS, almost like a fond chuckle. The Doctor bounded back to Yaz as two helmets dropped from the ceiling.</p><p>“Wanna give it a go?” she asked, catching one. Yaz had to stoop to pick up hers, but soon she found herself on the back of the bike, arms clasped around the Doctor’s middle as the engine revved. “That’s the stuff,” cried the Doctor, and Yaz gripped tighter as the bike reared beneath them, and they shot off into the TARDIS halls.</p><p>They raced past Ryan, who stumbled backward into the bathroom to avoid collision, and Graham in the kitchen, who stared after them over his forgotten tea, biscuit halfway to his mouth. Yaz couldn’t help laughing and waving as they passed; amused by their friends’ gaping after the sight of her and the Doctor, tongue poking out one corner of her lips as she leaned over the handlebars, urging the bike faster.</p><p>On its own, the front door burst open as they approached, and Yaz squinted up into the afternoon sunlight, the wind whipping past her ears and battering her lips. The air seemed to force itself into her lungs, pressed all around her like a pillow.</p><p>She’d learned how to drive a motorbike in police training, but being a passenger was entirely different. She could pay attention to the clarity of her surroundings, the sharpness of the park as they zoomed by, colors brighter than through a tinted car window, the scent of freshly mown grass thick in her nostrils; the black of the asphalt and lines of paint rushing under the wheels like a blurry river; the cool spray of sprinklers and puddles they disturbed. And if she wanted, perched on the back of this motorbike, she could curl into the Doctor’s back to press her cheek between the Doctor’s shoulder blades, though she decided against it as their helmets would knock together.</p><p> </p><p>Motorbikes became a language between Yaz and the Doctor, even as the Doctor’s moods grew ever dour, her thoughts fixed on the Master and all that had transpired. To cheer her up, Yaz could pull up to the TARDIS on her work-issue bike, and the Doctor would beg to drive it, so she could flip on the lights and siren on the back roads when no one else was around, until Yaz repeatedly swatted her shoulder to turn them off.</p><p>“No lights and siren, I <em>told </em>you I could get in trouble,” she yelled over the bike.</p><p>“Fine,” whined the Doctor, flipping the switches back.</p><p>The Doctor did insist on installing a few modifications to Yaz’s work bike, but Yaz had to put her foot down about the anti-gravitational capacitors. “We can explain away my long absences but they’re not gonna understand exactly <em>how </em>my bike got off the ground and stayed there.”</p><p>“But—” started the Doctor.</p><p>“I let you put in the speed boost, that was ace,” Yaz reassured. “And the airbag encapsulators, I feel much safer now, knowing if I fly off, you’ll have me nicely bubble wrapped before I hit the ground.”</p><p>Other days, the Doctor would roar out of the TARDIS and rev below Yaz’s bedroom window, much to the chagrin of her neighbors, and Sonya’s many complaints.</p><p>“Your weird girlfriend’s woken me up twice in the past week, Yaz,” Sonya grumbled over her cereal.</p><p>“I’ll tell her to text me next time,” said Yaz apologetically. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”</p><p>“Whatever. Joyride’s still a joyride,” said Sonya, and Yaz choked on her toast.</p><p>“I think it’s sweet,” said Hakim, without looking up from his newspaper. “She wants everyone to know she’s here for Yaz.” Yaz coughed more crumbs and snatched her water glass.</p><p>“As long as you’re being safe,” Najia impressed. A well-practiced routine, she slid a mug of coffee into Hakim’s hand with both of hers, pausing to stroke the backs of his knuckles. “Everyone else is awake by eleven, Sonya, maybe you should get to bed earlier.”</p><p>And when they took her bike, the Doctor let Yaz play with the special features. The first attempt at anti-grav could have gone better, however, and ended spectacularly with a nearly failed climb of an abandoned office building; Yaz, the Doctor, and the motorbike plummeting from the twentieth floor. Thankfully, the Doctor waved a well-timed sonic at the bike to catch them both before they splattered the ground, assuming the driver’s seat and fixing the controls in a matter of seconds, before pulling Yaz on behind her and angling them back toward the side of the building.</p><p>“Forgot to tell you about the inertia shutoff at fifth gear, it assumes you’ve built up enough speed to keep going without the anti-grav in drive,” shouted the Doctor, Yaz shaken and clinging to her. “Saves energy in the long run, but I’ll have to teach you the trick to that, or else install an override.”</p><p>Because Yaz’s motorbike was still police-issue, they couldn’t race—though the Doctor did a poor job of hiding her disappointment—and they traded the responsibility of driving; it was easier to communicate anyway, only having to yell over one engine rather than two, and Yaz quietly preferred the closeness of sharing a seat on one bike.</p><p>Often, they’d draw lines on a map and follow that route to its end, but there were still other times when the Doctor let Yaz pick their path as they went, pausing at every fork in the road she could for her to point. And though they didn’t share them outside the TARDIS—and Graham and Ryan both chided them for it quite a lot—both of them had gotten good at snapping photos from the backseat, getting more and more daring with their respective selfies, although Yaz was in the lead with one she’d captured upside down in a skate park, twisting around to get the Doctor’s helmet in the frame as the bike’s rip echoed in the tunnel. Yaz grew more comfortable with the Doctor’s arms around her waist when she drove, though there was still a small thrill when the Doctor adjusted against her back, sometimes actually dozing, though how she did with the mad sputter of the engine was anyone’s guess. And Yaz was getting used to the ringing in her ears and residual vibration in her legs that faded more gradually after a long ride, and when Sonya asked if she could get a muffler, Yaz responded by quoting the Doctor: “Not very fun if it doesn’t make noise, is it? Hardly a motorbike at all.”</p><p> </p><p>As promised, Yaz found the Doctor at the console, bike parked by the door as she set coordinates. Around her neck, her goggles clacked with each energetic reach.</p><p>“Where’d you say we were going again?” Yaz yawned.</p><p>“Neat little spot up in the Smoky Mountains,” said the Doctor. She flicked a switch, and a dial ticked as she turned it. “Close-ish to the East Coast of America, coveted spot for motorbikes. Has some of the best views.” A button lit purple as she pressed it. “I hope you don’t mind cliffs.”</p><p>“What’s it called?”</p><p>The Doctor rummaged in a pocket before flipping a heavy coin at Yaz. Catching it, she felt the smooth lacquered paint, and saw a small yellow dragon silhouette against a black background. The reverse side was designed to look like a mile marker and read: <em>318 Curves, 11 Miles, Deal’s Gap, US 129.</em></p><p>“You sure it’s safe?” asked Yaz. “Seems a lot of turns to squeeze into that short a space.”</p><p>“We’ve been up the sides of skyscrapers and upside-down with anti-grav, and you’re concerned about a few tight turns?” Clacking and clattering ceased as the Doctor finished setting controls. “Besides, the Dragon’s only the first part. Thrill first, nice and easy scenic byway after. Is your jacket warm enough? Even middle of summer it gets a chill that high up.” With that bright smile, she handed Yaz her helmet. “Promise I’ll feed you breakfast after, don’t want you getting sick off the bike.”</p><p>“Spectacular,” said Yaz apprehensively. The Doctor loped to the motorbike, which Yaz noticed had a fresh coat of wax; its regular gleam seemed sharper, even in the soft console light, and it, too, seemed to grin back, even as the Doctor turned expectantly toward her, practically sparkling along with the bike.</p><p>“Coming?” she asked, even if she knew the answer. Yaz plunked her helmet on and started fiddling with the chinstrap, and the Doctor leapt onto the motorbike, casting her sonic at the console. The TARDIS wheezed into the space-time vortex as Yaz clambered onto the back of the bike, and the Doctor kicked the motor to life. If Yaz wasn’t yet awake ten seconds ago, she was now, in the echoing mechanical thunder and rattling of the motorbike under them.</p><p>“Once we get off the Dragon, we can really open her up,” she shouted. “I’ve modified the anti-grav so we can test the speed over sharper turns, but I don’t want to get too risky.” The Doctor revved the engine, and the sound reverberated, magnified by the closeness of the control room.</p><p>“You sure about this?” yelled Yaz, remembering the coin in her pocket. She slid her arms around the familiar curve of the Doctor’s waist.</p><p>“Positive!” cried the Doctor. “Only had to put a part on the Tree of Shame once. Or twice. Maybe it was seven…” But the TARDIS interrupted her by thudding extra loudly at their destination, and as they exploded through the front door into the grey, pre-dawn, the Doctor hollered, “Geronimo!”</p><p>“Geronimo?” asked Yaz, incredulous.</p><p>“Summat I used to say last I used this bike,” replied the Doctor. “Well. The old one. Don’t think I’ll be saying it again in this body.”</p><p>“Please don’t.”</p><p>Fresh mountain air billowed cool and humid around them, while the bike spluttered heat waves about their legs. They zoomed past several clearings with small docks for fishing and swimming, nestled between massive, green-blanketed slopes. Through the trees and across the water, Yaz could see the same stretch of road they had raced over a minute prior. Cabins, motels, and small houses dotted the road every few minutes, and one even had a rearing bike mounted as though it were bursting through a wall. The road signs were all motorbike-themed as well, with occasional riders having slapped bumper stickers on the backs of mile markers, and Yaz looked back to see even the smaller signs had the same dragon logo.</p><p>True to fashion, Americans had capitalized on it: at certain points along the road, there was nothing but dragon imagery, and they roared past several statues of dragons, dragon tails, motorbikes, and shop signs nestled in the brush. They even passed a shrub taller than Yaz, which had been trimmed into the shape of a dragon, perched and glowering as though it were about to breathe fire.</p><p>“Nearly there,” called the Doctor. “Hang on tight, Yaz.” The warning came later than Yaz would have liked, but she didn’t have time to complain before the first sharp turn. So sharp, in fact, their toes nearly brushed the pavement, and Yaz squeaked, clinging tighter to the Doctor for dear life while the engine puttered slightly softer, the Doctor easing from the clutch. “It’s all right,” shouted the Doctor back at her, once the curve ended. “I told you, I’ve adjusted the anti-grav so we’re less likely to wipe out.”</p><p><em>“Less </em>likely?”</p><p>“Didn’t I mention the Tree of Shame?”</p><p>“We’re not getting hung up there, are we?”</p><p>“Nah, just spare parts that get knocked off into the ravine. Coming up on the Switchbacks, hold on.”</p><p>Yaz lost count of the curves. If she could have held her fingers over her eyes, she would have, so instead she opted to bury her face in the Doctor’s back, the Doctor laughing maniacally into the wind over the sharper curves she could take with more speed than usual. The bike hugged each turn, bringing them closer and closer to the asphalt, and Yaz was half thankful no one else was around to see, and half anxious about no one being around to call an ambulance. And the Doctor had been right about not feeding her breakfast; more than once, Yaz’s stomach lurched with the bends in the road, and she thought she’d be sick over the side, if she’d had anything to eat.</p><p>They spotted photographers setting up for the day with small tents and folding chairs, and Yaz silently thanked the stars no one was shooting at this time; she wouldn’t have enjoyed Ryan finding the proofs online of the Doctor grinning like the devil and her either hiding or screaming. Still, she enjoyed the tamer parts of the highway, where she could look across and see fingers of the river at the foot of their slope, though she didn’t enjoy peering over the guardrails. The Doctor occasionally reached back to pat her knee with a gloved hand, more reassurance than words Yaz was sure would come across the wrong way over the roar of the motorbike, and she took a little more courage in the touch to peek at the Doctor’s reflection.</p><p>In the burgeoning dawn, a bare hanging inch of blonde hair whipped every direction beneath the helmet’s border, the Doctor’s wind-chapped face a portrait of delight in the side mirrors. Twice, she caught Yaz’s eye in the rearview, and both times she positively beamed back at her, as if to say “how about it, Yaz? Some fun, eh?”</p><p>Their ears ringing and limbs unaccustomed to still ground, they pulled up to the Tree of Shame for a quick look, and Yaz shuddered to see the mosaic of hubcaps, fenders, plates, windshields, and other various, multicolored parts bolted to it. There was even a pink and purple plastic tricycle. The Doctor gleefully pointed at various blue shards and bits of metal she herself had contributed, and Yaz had to stop her from recounting her most colorful accidents, unable to bear hearing about broken limbs and ribs, even if spare regenerative energy and alien medicine were quick fixes.</p><p>“…Well, that’s why we wear helmets, yeah?” said the Doctor, knocking Yaz’s playfully with the back of her hand. She allowed herself a luxurious stretch, arms reaching high over her head, before crossing the lot back to the bike, which sat, quiet and alone by a sign that read “Motorcycle Parking Only” over a flaming black dragon. A growing rumble permeated the silence, and Yaz turned to see an approaching posse of six motorbikes, no fewer than eight total riders astride them in pairs or solo. The Doctor dashed back out from their bike to wave furiously as they passed, and a lone rider flashed them a peace sign. After the posse passed, a single orange and black bike bearing two riders growled after them. On the back, a teenage girl with long, dark hair snapped a photo on her phone before she, too, waved, grinning.</p><p>“Looks like we won’t be alone for sunrise, Yaz, better get a shift on,” said the Doctor happily, mounting their motorbike. “I rather liked the paint job on that one, did you spot the eagles? Maybe I ought to do up this one with a touch of rainbow in the garage…”</p><p>To Yaz’s relief, most of the unsettling, nearly hundred-and-eighty-degree turns were behind them, and after a calmer stretch, they turned onto route one forty-three, which was marked with a stylized logo of a snake. The motorbike hit a new crescendo as the Doctor urged it faster than they had gone that morning; spurred by the new availability of straighter road. And despite the engine’s thundering, Yaz yawned, lulled by the sudden drop in her adrenaline, the sameness of the noise and the purring vibration of the bike. Sorely tempted to tuck her cheek against the Doctor’s back and close her eyes, she reminded herself that falling asleep on a motorbike was perhaps the worst idea after the Dragon Tail, even if the Doctor somehow did so successfully from time to time. Still, she struggled to keep her eyes open, and the Doctor must have spotted her in the mirror, because she reached back to pat Yaz’s knee again, which was jolt enough to keep her awake, thoughts buzzing anew at the touch.</p><p>This new road curved in easier, friendlier ways as they gained altitude, and Yaz found herself staring across at the mountains that seemed to arc and lope forever outward in rolling green ridges that made her feel small. Almost the same smallness she felt watching the Doctor negotiate with hostile aliens, or upon seeing a new planet for the first time. Yaz cupped the currents of air with her hand as though she could shape it, yearning to touch the scene before her, to brush the tops of the distant trees, which textured the landscape fuzzy like emerald fleece. She remembered her phone in her pocket, and caught a picture over a rusty guardrail, the distant peaks tinted misty. She shivered as they rushed through the chilled air, and zipped her jacket.</p><p>“Should be an East-facing lookout coming up,” shouted the Doctor after what felt like both an age and only a few seconds, Yaz lost in the whirl of honeysuckle-scented air, drawn in by the ever-wending view. They pulled up to a patch of gravel by a stone wall, an outcrop that overlooked a length of lake, which they’d skirted from the end of route one twenty-nine. “This is the place!” said the Doctor, setting the kickstand and helping Yaz down from her perch on the back. Light was already starting to reach over the mountains with great blooms of pink and orange as they doffed their helmets.</p><p>“Here,” said the Doctor, producing a sandwich from one of the bike’s saddlebags. “Been on the road for nearly an hour, you must be starving. Might keep you awake.” From the same bag, she pulled a thermos of tea to share and a sandwich for herself, and Yaz took a bite of egg and toast. Nothing had ever tasted so wonderful, she thought, the salt and butter on her tongue reminding her stomach to echo the motorbike. “Not a moment too soon,” chuckled the Doctor, and for a few minutes, they ate in silence, watching the colors thin to pale blue in the peeking sun over the far ridge. The tea steamed peacefully, and in the absence of motorbike roaring, birds started to chirp.</p><p>“What d’you think?” asked the Doctor in a soft voice, once the pink in the sky had almost faded, and the sun was broad enough of a crescent to warm their faces.</p><p>“I think…” started Yaz, and she took a slow sip of tea. “I think I don’t want to be woken up by a motorbike outside my door again.”</p><p>The Doctor grimaced, her face scrunching. “Sorry.”</p><p>“But,” said Yaz, meeting her eyes, “Bar that death trap of a road, I’d say this was almost worth it.”</p><p>“Almost! We’re only in the best spot for motorbikes in America, Yaz! I didn’t want us to miss the—”</p><p>“Doctor, we live in a time machine, you could’ve let me sleep in,” said Yaz, laughing as she took the Doctor’s hand. She stopped short as she realized what she’d done, and both of them stared at their hands, involuntarily clasped together. They looked back up at each other, both rosy and windblown in the dawn, the Doctor’s hair pressed flat to her head from wearing a helmet for so long. But then the awkward moment passed, and the Doctor’s eyes crinkled warm at the corners as she sidled closer beside Yaz to slide an arm around her, both of them leaning against the wall to watch the morning creep over the mountains in the veil of mist.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi!</p><p>It's been a while since I posted a new one shot, and I was delighted to have a reason to recall this lovely camping trip I took with my Grandpa at 16. Deal's Gap is indeed a place in North Carolina, the Dragon Tail is INSANE (I think we drove it a total of four times, once at night on the way in, getting dive bombed by bats), and I remember it all very fondly. I found my instant photos I took while on the back of the bike, and it all came flooding back. Motorcycles are a love language between me and Gpa, so this one also sorta goes out to him, though I don't expect him to understand Doctor Who at all. I did a quick, shameless cameo of us and our Harley, because I'll give 16-year-old me some nice things; she didn't have many of them.<br/>And Yaz and the Doctor had such a good time on motorcycles in Spyfall, why not let them have a little fun?</p><p>As always, smash any buttons you like, comments are writer fodder, take care and be kind!</p><p>Cheers,<br/>Jo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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